


Louder than words

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, It's kinda angsty, M/M, Racism TW, SORRY YALL, Stoner John Laurens, alcohol tw, also, also alex is trinidadian, dont worry it gets better, drugs tw, homophobia tw, i don't know why it just seemed right at the time, i'm going to write a spinoff about them, laurens is a huge asshole in the first part, leave me alone, marijuana tw, not that much violence though, oh yeah and, someone just gets punched in the face, sorry there's not as much schuyler sister action, that's all you need to know goodbye, they deserved it tbh, this is my first fic go easy on me ok, violence tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7295560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander arrives at his new school in the States with high hopes. He falls in with the popular crowd easily- almost too easily. But things take a turn for the worse when he begins to make bad choices to impress the leader of the clique, John Laurens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Talk Less

It was Alexander Hamilton’s first day at Riverview high school. Scratch that, it was his first day at any American high school. He hailed from Trinidad. Though he would never admit it, he had watched a lot of classically ‘American’ films prior to his stay. He called it ‘cultural enrichment’. Most of the movies featured swaggering teenage boys, showing off in fancy cars for the pretty girls lined up at school. He always thought he’d fit in well with that kind of gang, though he couldn’t say why. But when he showed up at Riverview clutching a mountain of schoolbooks, he knew they’d never let him, a muslim, a foreigner, into their clique.

Thus began the longest day of his life so far.

Alexander, a studious person by nature, accepted each and every syllabus and rulebook he was handed by his six teachers. The first week of school was normally boring, and students usually used the down time to chat with their friends. Alex didn’t have any friends yet, so he spent the time observing the social scene.  
There seemed to be two groups at Riverview- the preps and the stoners. He noticed this almost immediately. In any social situation they tended to separate, like oil and water. He noticed there were a lot more boys than girls in each of these cliques. The girls, it seemed, preferred to go off into their own little worlds, rather than mix with the boys. They seemed to have their own groups too, but the lines between them were not as clear cut.

Alex made it through the first half of the day, but he could tell that lunchtime was going to be awful. If there was anything he’d learned from the American teenager movies he’d watched religiously back home, it was that one should never sit at the wrong table. He ducked into the bathroom and waited in there until all of the classes took their seats. Then he scanned the lunchroom for any potential friends.

He found a seat next to a boy about his age, reading a book. He was wearing thin wire glasses, which looked like they were about to fall off his broad nose.

“Hey,” said Alex, setting down his backpack and lunch tray. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all,” said the boy, adjusting his glasses. He continued to read.

“What’s your name? I’m Alexander Hamilton,” he said, attempting to engage this aloof boy in conversation.

“Aaron Burr,” he said, not even looking up from his novel.

“What book are you reading?”

“1984, by George Orwell.”

“I love that book!” cried Alexander, elated that he finally had someone to chat with. “The subject matter's so creepy to me. I'm so glad our society isn't like that. Have you read it before? The ending’s really great. George Orwell is a master with endings, don’t you think?” He waited for a response. Slowly, Aaron Burr looked back at him.

“Can I offer you some free advice?” he said, ignoring Alexander’s questions.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Talk less.” Alex stared at him, taken aback. Who did this kid think he was?

“What?”

“Smile more.” Aaron had to be joking. Right?

“Don’t let people know where you stand on matters, and be wary of your actions, too. Sometimes they speak louder than words.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Alex.

“I am,” Aaron replied. “People in this town- well, it’s just better to say that being indiscreet could get you in a lot of trouble. We may not have big brother watching over us, but there are always prying eyes looking out for some new gossip here.”

Alexander decided to ignore that ominous warning, as a group of guys wandered up to their table. They definitely seemed to fit in the ‘stoner’ category. He normally didn’t like to make assumptions about people he’d never met, but one of them was wearing weed socks.

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigy of Riverview high!” cried a tall boy with long, loose curls and freckles.

“Like I said…” Aaron intoned, nodding his head towards the crew of boys.

“And who is this?” asked another from the group, slinging his arm around the tall, freckled boy’s waist. Alex noticed that he had a slight accent.

“Alexander Hamilton,” he introduced himself. “But you can call me Alex.”  
The taller boy, who seemed to be the leader of the pack, narrowed his eyes. They were startlingly green, which stood out against the light brown skin of his face. He was undeniably pretty. “Okay,” he said, as if making up his mind. “I’m John, but everyone calls me Laurens. That’s Lafayette-” he gestured to the boy who had his arm around his waist- “and that’s Hercules Mulligan,” he finished, motioning to a brawny-looking teenage boy who was looking at his phone. At the mention of his name, he waved.

“The nickname is a long story,” he said. “You can just call me Herc, if you want.”

“So where are you from?” asked Laurens. “Are you an exchange student?”

“No, I’m from Trinidad,” said Alexander, silently cursing himself for talking too fast earlier. His accent must’ve shown through. “I moved here at the end of last year.”

“Why?” asked Lafayette. “If it doesn’t bother you.”

“No, not at all,” Alex replied. “My mom wanted me to go to an American high school. There’s nothing wrong with Trinidadian schools- in fact, some of the greatest schools in the world are in Trinidad. My mom just thought I’d have better opportunities in America.” He tastefully left out the part about his mother dying, about her final wishes being that he get citizenship in America to study. He also forgot to mention staying with his cousin for four years after that, trying to arrange his stay in the States.

“So we’re alike!” cried Lafayette, clapping Alex on the back. He sure seemed friendly for someone whom he’d just met. “We’re both foreign! I come from France. My parents are also immigrants- they’re from Sudan.”

“Oh god,” said Laurens, rolling his eyes. “Don’t get Laf started on his ancestry. He’ll talk forever.”

“Aw, shut up, you _salaud_ ,” said Lafayette, playfully shoving his friend. Alexander laughed,

“You know French?” asked Lafayette, genuinely amazed.

“Well, I took it all throughout primary school,” admitted Alexander sheepishly. “I had to look that one up on my own, though.” The group laughed. “But it’s not like I’m fluent or anything.”

They spent the rest of lunch, trading jokes and anecdotes of their lives before junior year. Aaron didn’t say a word, a behavior that Alex realized was not unusual for him. Lafayette and Mulligan seemed nice enough, but Laurens seemed like he was holding out for something. He seemed kind of cold, Alex thought. Though only towards him.

As the day progressed, Alex realized that it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. Even back home, he never really fit in. Now, he had friends- or at least something resembling friendship. He had English with Herc, and Laurens and Lafayette were in his sixth period French 3 class. Of course, Lafayette was a native speaker, but he just took the class so he could get an easy A.

“Hey, Alex,” Laurens said as the bell rang, indicating the end of the school day. “Wanna come to Kitty Livingston’s party on Friday? It’ll be a ton of fun.”

“Yeah, yes, definitely,” said Alex awkwardly. He’d never been to a party before- much less, been personally invited by a cute, popular boy.

“Great,” said Laurens, winking. He scribbled an address on a sheet of notebook paper and handed it to Alex. “You have to drive yourself, though. My mom grounded me for getting a 58% on a math test in summer school.” He laughed, as if he didn’t care about his grade. Maybe he really didn’t. Alexander could never figure out people like that.

“Great, cool, I’ll be there,” he said, waving goodbye to Laurens. Laurens smiled, grabbed his bookbag, and with a flip of his dusky curls, he was gone.

Alexander stared at the paper in his hand. It would take nothing short of a miracle to convince his foster family.


	2. The place to be

“Hey, Mrs. Washington,” said Alex, swinging his backpack onto the hook beside the door.

“Hi, Alexander,” Mrs. Washington replied. She was of old-fashioned stock- dark, curly hair surrounded her matronly face. Martha Washington was the kind of person you’d expect to be a foster mom. “How was your first day, dear?”

“It was alright,” Alexander answered, lifting up on his toes to reach the cupboard where the junk food was. The Washingtons didn’t really approve of unhealthy food, but they kept some for Alex as a special treat.

“Did you make any new friends?” Alexander stared into the bag of fritos. If he mentioned Laurens and Lafayette, the details about the party might slip out as well. And there was no way that the Washingtons would let him go to a party.

“Um… yes,” he said hesitantly. “Four new friends.”

Mrs. Washington beamed. “Good for you, Alex! I’m so glad to see you’ve finally come out of your shell!”

Alexander avoided her gaze, choosing instead to stare out the window. “Mrs. Washington?”

“Yes, dear?”

“My friend… uh, Lafayette, is having a… um… sleepover. On Friday. It’s overnight. Can I go?” He took a deep, shaky breath. He wasn’t accustomed to lying. He never lied to his mom back home. Alexander prayed silently that Mrs. Washington wouldn’t see right through him.

She didn’t. “Of course you can, love. I’m so glad you’re making friends. Now, I’ll have to tell George, but I think he’ll be fine with it.” Alex breathed a sigh of relief.

Alexander didn’t say much after that. He was still nervous from his lie. _It’s not like it’s a big lie,_ he thought to himself later, at night when all the lights were off. _I_ am _going to hang out with Lafayette and Laurens. And, yeah, there probably will be alcohol at this party. But I’ll stay sober. There’s no harm done._ Still, he couldn’t shake the ominous feeling of doing something wrong. The Washingtons were kind to him. He didn’t want them to think he was a bad person. He soon fell into a fitful sleep, full of dreams and nightmares and sinister words that floated through his mind like clouds. 

~

The first week of school progressed normally. As it turned out, Alexander’s math teacher, Ms. Reynolds, was a former protege of the Washingtons and had taken an instant liking to him. His French and art teachers proved harder to please, but at least none of his teachers hated him. Every day he sat with Laurens, Lafayette, and Herc Mulligan. Aaron Burr only sat with them some of the time, and when he did, he barely spoke a word.

“So are you going to Kitty’s party tonight?” asked Laurens coyly. Lafayette and Hercules exchanged a glance.

“Yeah, of course!” said Alexander. All week he’d been waiting anxiously for Friday night.

“Good,” said Laurens, grabbing his books as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. “We’ll all be there.”

Lafayette and Herc looked sheepish. “What’s wrong?” Alexander asked the pair.

“Uh, nothing,” said Lafayette.

“We just don’t think you should go to that party, that’s all.” Hercules admitted.

Alexander snorted. “Oh, please, it’s not like I’m going to get shitfaced. What do you take me for?” The two boys exchanged another uneasy glance. “Come on, Hercules, let’s go to English.”

“Don’t say I didn’t tell you,” Herc muttered, but Alexander pretended not to hear.  
Alexander spent the rest of the day in a euphoric haze. He completely forgot about Lafayette’ and Herc’s warnings, choosing instead to focus on Laurens. It was hard to believe that a cute, cool boy like him would want to hang out with Alexander. His feelings towards the other boy were ambiguous, though sometimes (usually in the middle of the night) he vaguely thought that it might be nice to hold him, to kiss him, to be his boyfriend.

The night finally came. Alexander convinced his foster dad to let him borrow their car. He looked at the slip of paper in his hand. 316 Squirrel Spur Road. Alex punched the address into his GPS. He’d never heard of the street- Kitty’s house must be out in the suburbs. He’d never met Kitty Livingston, but Laurens had assured him that she was good company.

Alexander followed the directions for forty minutes, heading out of town. It was only until he had passed ten or so cattle ranches that he came to the conclusion that Kitty must live on a farm. Farms seemed like they’d be good for throwing parties- not close to any neighbors, so they could be as loud as they liked. The GPS directions led him haphazardly down hills and valleys and dirt-paved roads until he spotted a sign for Squirrel Spur road. The sign indicated that it was a dead end. _Must be even better for parties, then,_ Alexander thought to himself. The road was gravel, ending in a ditch smack-dab in the middle of a cornfield. He noticed that there was no music, and no other cars were parked in the field. Alex fished his phone out from under the mountain of fast food wrappers on the passenger’s seat. _This can’t be right,_ he thought, but sure enough, the GPS said that he’d arrived at the party. He tried to back out frantically, but the car just rolled into the mud-filled ditch. Alex restarted the car once, twice, three times, but the attempts were futile. He switched on his high-beam lights. It was getting dark, so dark that he couldn’t see behind him anymore. Alexander started to panic. He was terribly, horribly, utterly lost.

Laurens had tricked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laurens is such an asshole in this chapter, sorry! (But don't worry, it gets better)  
> Also, sorry the formatting is kinda crappy. I'm not good at this haha  
> If you have any questions just drop me an ask! My tumblr is @justlamsthings.


	3. The Schuyler Sisters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hi hey what's up!! I'm going to be gone for 3 weeks so the next update will probably be around the first or second week of August. Sorry y'all in the meantime enjoy some Schuyler sisters  
> (also: big racism tw and bullying tw for this one. Stay safe y'all)

Alex couldn’t think, or breathe. He was stuck in a muddy trench in the middle of rural South Carolina, with little to no cell reception. He wouldn’t call Mr. Washington- then he’d know something was up. And he certainly wouldn’t call Laurens, the backstabbing asshole. Besides, he probably _couldn’t_ , because the last cell tower he’d seen was 30 minutes ago. He felt the hot tears spring into his eyes before he even thought about crying. Before too long, he was sitting in his foster father’s Volkswagen, sobbing wholeheartedly. To indulge his sorrow, he’d cranked Beyonce’s Halo at full volume. He didn’t even hear when someone tapped on the windowpane.

“Laurens?” he said, wiping his eyes. He hoped to God it was Laurens, coming to tell him that he’d just played a dumb prank, and that he was sorry. But it wasn’t. A teenage girl, maybe a little older than himself, was standing outside his door. Two others, most likely her sisters, were standing behind her. One of them had a shotgun.

“You’re on private property,” said the girl, before realizing that he’d been crying. “Are you okay?” She motioned towards her sisters. The one in the yellow skirt dropped her gun.

“Yeah.” Alex sniffled. “A person just played a mean prank on me.”

“Oh.” said the girl. She was wearing her thick black hair in two braids, and had on a long pink skirt, the kind that a gypsy would wear. Her sisters were dressed almost identically. “We’re very familiar with mean pranks- right, Eliza?”

The girl called Eliza in the long blue skirt walked closer to the car. “Yeah,” she said. She lacked the confidence in her voice that her sister had. “When I used to go to public school, people bullied me all the time.” She shrugged. “For some reason people always want to tease me. Maybe I just look naive or something. Thank the Lord my sisters were there to stand up for me.” Alexander thought back to the various pranks that had been played on him. They were all pretty heinous, but none stung as much as this one. He’d actually believed that he could fall in with the cool, popular people that easily.

“I don’t have any siblings,” he murmured.

“Come on, let’s get you out of this car. You’re stuck in the mud, and won’t be leaving anytime soon,” said the girl in the yellow skirt. She picked up the shotgun that she’d laid at her feet. Alexander eyed it suspiciously. “Don’t worry, the safety’s on,” she said with a grin.

“What’s your name?” asked the girl in the pink skirt. Alex could tell she was the oldest.

“Alexander Hamilton,” he said.

“Wow, that’s quite a name,” remarked the one in the yellow skirt.

“My name is Angelica Schuyler, and these are my sisters, Eliza and Peggy,” said the eldest girl, whom Alexander now knew to be Angelica.

“Those are pretty names,” he said blandly. He was still trying to get over the shock of being accosted in a cornfield by three sisters and a musket.

“Thanks,” said Angelica proudly, twirling her long braids.

“Wanna come inside for hot chocolate? It’s pretty cold for September,” Peggy chirped.

“Sure,” replied Alexander, who could not turn down free chocolate in any form.

“I'm sure Papa will be fine with you spending the night,” said Eliza. “It’s awfully late, and you can’t just sleep in your car.”

“That’s a very kind offer, but I don’t know if I can accept,” said Alexander. He barely knew these people, though they seemed perfectly nice.

“We have a spare room upstairs,” said Angelica. “Besides, if you don’t stay here, where will you go?”

She had a good point. Mr. Washington still thought he was at Lafayette’s, and his car was hopelessly stuck in a ditch.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Just don’t shoot me with that rifle in my sleep.”

The sisters laughed at this. “Only if you promise to not pull any funny business,” said Peggy, eyeing him closely.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” said Alexander merrily. "You have my word."

“Good,” Angelica replied, giggling nervously with her sisters. Alexander barely knew these girls, but he liked them already.

The Schuyler household was a glorious Victorian farmhouse, with a sweeping front porch below and two balconies up above. Angelica led them into the kitchen, where the sisters boiled water and mixed in some hot cocoa from a bag.

“There you go,” said Angelica, setting a full mug on the coffee-stained wooden table. “Now tell us what happened.”

Alex proceeded to tell them the whole story. “It was awful,” he said. “I’ve never lied to my foster parents. Not once. After all they’ve done for me, and I repay them with this.” He gestured to the cornfield, where his car lay in half-solidified mud somewhere.

“Oh, Alex,” sighed Angelica. “You did nothing wrong. Every teenager has to lie at some point in their life.”

“What happened to you?” Alexander asked Eliza, attempting to change the subject. Angelica and Peggy looked at their sister, their eyes brimming with compassion. It was clear to see that Eliza was uncomfortable. “You don’t have to tell me,” Alex assured.

“No, I do,” said Eliza, trying her best to be brave. “We all used to go to public school, up until the 6th grade- we’re homeschooled now, so it’s all okay- but it was one of those southern, redneck schools.”

“The kind of school that has pickup trucks in the parking lot with confederate flag decals,” Angelica interjected. “Sorry, ‘Liza, go on.”

“Yeah. So anyway, it was all these white kids, and then us.”

“She’s not kidding,” grumbled Peggy.

“And I guess it was because I was the most shy, or the most naive out of my sisters, but they alway picked on me. Because I was the only black kid, besides Peggy and Angelica.”

“And they were smart enough not to pick on me,” sniffed Angelica.

“Yeah, we’d beat ‘em up,” said Peggy, cracking her knuckles.

“They’d call me the N-word, steal my stuff, and write threats on my locker.” Eliza said in a monotone.

“That sounds rough,” said Alexander. "I'm so sorry."

“We didn’t know anything about it, because it never happened to us.” remarked Angelica.

“I think they were afraid of us,” said Peggy stoically.

“And we didn’t find out that they were bullying Eliza until she stopped eating.”

“They told me they were going to poison my food,” said Eliza softly.

“So, naturally, when Papa found out, he pulled her out of school.”

“And we’ve been homeschooled ever since,” Peggy finished proudly.

“Wow,” said Alexander, completely blown away. He’d never been the subject of such blatant racism- islamophobia and homophobia, yes, but he’d never been called the n-word. He couldn’t begin to imagine how traumatic that must’ve been for Eliza. “You’ve been through a whole lot. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s in the past now,” said Eliza kindly. “You needn’t be sorry.”

They continued in this way, talking about everything and nothing at all, until the sisters showed Alexander to his room. It was small, but cozy, with two bookshelves bordering a quilted canopy bed. He plucked out a book from the shelf and began to read. He couldn’t sleep if he didn’t read before bed. It had been this way since he was a little boy. He chose _The Awakening,_ a book about a 19th century housewife discovering her freedom and choosing to break free from the status quo. Somehow, her strength and struggle reminded him of Eliza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much angst im so sorry! Also, if you have a hard time picturing the schuyler sisters or their southern gothic aesthetic, just think of lemonade. That's what I had in mind while writing this ^o^  
> ps. The Awakening is a real book! Read it!!!! It's great !


	4. Chapter 4

Alexander awoke to the smell of salty bacon and light streaming through the shutters. At first he didn’t recognize his surroundings, but then he remembered: he was staying with the Schuylers. Alex went to the bathroom, relieved himself, and washed his face and hands before heading downstairs to the source of the scent.

A huge man Alex had never seen before was standing over the tiny red stove, bacon crackling merrily in the pan beneath him. Around the table sat the Schuyler sisters, looking resplendent in identical white cotton dresses. The man must be the girls’ father, Alex thought. He was much bigger and brawnier than the three sisters, but they looked alike around the eyes and nose.

“Hey, Alexander,” said their father, glancing up from his sizzling pan. Alexander was surprised he knew his name. The astonishment must’ve shown on his face, because his next words were “The girls told me you were here.” Alexander nodded enthusiastically. “I told them you could stay only if your GPA was above a 3.0.” This was received with laughter from all.

“Last year, I finished with a 4.2,” Alexander reassured him.

“Perfect,” said Mr. Schuyler. “Here, have some bacon.” The girls giggled ecstatically.

“No thank you,” said Alexander politely. “I don’t eat pork. I’m a Muslim.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mr. Schuyler apologized. “What else would you like? We have toast, eggs, fruit…”

“Just some toast, please, Mr. Schuyler,” said Alex, folding his napkin into his lap.

“None of that,” exclaimed the girls’ father, waving him off. At first Alexander thought he was talking about the toast. “Call me Philip.”

“Okay, Phillip,” Alex replied, watching as Philip Schuyler placed two slices of bread in the toaster. He served the bacon on three plates- one candy-pink, another dandelion yellow, and still another the color of the Caribbean sea. He then dumped the rest of the bacon onto a plate for himself.

“Did you sleep well?” asked Eliza.

“Yes, very well,” answered Alex. It was the best sleep he’d had in weeks. “I borrowed a book of yours. _The awakening._ I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course!” said Peggy.

“I love that book!” Angelica exclaimed.

Breakfast carried on, and on. At long last, the family finished, and they all went out into the cornfield to look at the car.

“It’s pretty damn stuck,” Phillip remarked, after surveying the scene for a few minutes.

“You got that right,” said Peggy.

The Schuylers immediately set to work on pushing the Volkswagon out of the trench. Though the sisters looked petite, they were strong, and after a few minutes the car was on dry land, dirty but okay.

“Thanks for your hospitality,” said Alexander, switching on the engine.

“It’s what we Schuylers do,” said Philip. The girls nodded in agreement.

“Bye, all of you,” said Alexander warmly. He put the car in reverse.

“See you soon,” cried the Schuylers in unison.

“I sure hope so,” Eliza whispered with a smile as the family turned to leave.

But Alexander was already gone. 

~

Alexander arrived back home at precisely 10:00 am. “Did you have fun at your sleepover?” Mrs. Washington called from the kitchen. At first Alex was confused, but then he remembered he had told his foster parents a false story about going over to Lafayette’s.

“Yeah,” he replied shakily. That same nervous feeling had come back to him.

“What did you all do?” asked Mr. Washington, peering over the morning newspaper. He was probably the last person in the world who read the paper in print.  


“We… uh… watched a movie,” Alexander lied.  


“Which one?” his foster dad asked.  


“Grease,” he said anxiously. He’d seen Grease before, and loved it.  


“That’s a great movie, dear. I’m glad you’re making friends,” said Mrs. Washington, not taking her eyes off of her knitting. Alex didn’t mention that he’d just made three more new friends, four if you counted Philip Schuyler.  


Alex mumbled something inaudible and then rushed up to his room. He just couldn’t take lying to his foster family even more.  


Alexander avoided his family the whole weekend. He feigned sickness on Sunday to get out of going to church with them, (which he wasn’t too upset about, since he wasn’t a christian anyway) and ate his meals as quickly as possible. He was grateful for Monday when it finally arrived.  


But school presented another problem: Laurens.  


“Are you mad at me?” Laurens asked Alexander as he trudged into the art classroom.  


Alexander said nothing. When it came to grudges, he was extremely stubborn. He resolved to not talk to Laurens, at least not until he apologized.  


Lunch was better than the first 3 periods of the day. Alex sat at a different table, but Hercules and Lafayette chose to sit with him. Laurens was nowhere to be found.  


“Where’s Laurens?” Alex asked. Not that he cared, but whatever.  


“Probably sulking somewhere,” Lafayette replied.  


“Probably smoking a blunt,” Herc joked. Lafayette giggled, coming perilously close to falling out of his chair. “You know it’s true though, Laf.”  


“Are you mad at him?” Lafayette asked.  


“Yeah,” Alexander moped.  


“That was totally not cool of Laurens,” Herc said.  


“Yeah, mon ami, that was, uh, how you say? Shitty.” Lafayette agreed. Hercules laughed.  


“Well said, dude,” he rumbled, clapping Lafayette on the back. “But seriously, we tried to talk him out of it. I think he was doing it to impress some girl…”  


_Great,_ Alex thought. _On top of all that he’s done to me, he’s straight. I’ve fallen for a heterosexual jackass._ But he kept these sentiments to himself.  


Laurens finally apologized in 6th period.  


“Hey, I’m sorry I played that prank on you,” Laurens said, pulling a French 3 textbook out from under his chair. “It was dumb.” Alexander said nothing. If anything, his grudge had just grown worse.  


“How about on Saturday you come to a party at Marta Manning’s house? I won’t ditch you, I promise. I’ll even pick you up.” Laurens pleaded.  


“So you admit to lying about your mom taking away your car keys?” Alexander snorted, arms folded across his chest.  


Laurens rolled his eyes. “I get it, you hate me. But can you just chill a little? I’m trying to make it up to you.”  


“Ugh, fine. But this doesn’t change anything.”  


“Boys?” It was Mr. Jefferson, their teacher. Laurens and Alex looked up suddenly, like animals caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Jefferson had a reputation for writing kids up for the smallest infractions. “I want you to stop talking now, if it’s not in french. Consider this a warning.” He turned back to the white board. Laurens and Alex exchanged exasperated glances. Moments later a wad of paper landed on Alexander’s desk. It was in Laurens’ small, cramped handwriting.  


_He’s so ridiculous._  


Alexander hastened to reply back.  
_I know! I don’t even think he’s qualified to teach French._  


Laurens:  


_He probably went to Paris once on a booze cruise down the Seine, and the administrators were so desperate that they gave him the job._  


Alex stifled a laugh, earning him a glare from Mr. Jefferson. But he didn’t care- Laurens, as it seemed, was his friend again. And that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .......the angst continues.......  
>  Sorry everyone! I haven't been very active lately, but that'll change soon. Enjoy!  
> Follow me on the Hell Site(tm) @justlamsthings.

**Author's Note:**

> salaud: bastard
> 
> Sorry that the beginning starts off slow. It'll get better, I promise!  
> Comments (preferably the nice ones) are appreciated.  
> Go and follow me on tumblr @justlamsthings !


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